Nox Celestis
by Nameless Sky
Summary: "Heavenly Night": The Ombra was often a neutral and odd (off) family among it's warring comrades, but every once in awhile, a stand must be made. Between loyalties of the heart and mind, where will it's members go when all is said and done? OCs needed. Warning: Language, violence, and slow progress.
1. Overture

**Disclaimer: I **_**own**_** nothing, all **_**right**_**s go to their **right**ful **own**ers.**

Written to "End of All Days" and "Northern Lights" by _Thirty Seconds to Mars_ on a whim.

* * *

_"I dream in my dreams all the dreams of other dreamers,_

_And I become the other dreamers." - Walt Whitman, "The Sleepers"_

Overture; Starry-eyed wanderers

"Hey... Is seeing ghosts a normal thing?"

They slowed down a bit before coming to a full stop, tilting their head slightly before answering, "As Illusionists, we have a broader sight spectrum than most, so, technically, yes, it is possible to see the deceased, whether it be real or self-conjured."

"Oh." That was all he could really say, having already played with the idea before asking.

Turning on their heel, they looked back at him from behind dark blue sunglasses, "It is essential to be open-minded in order to not stem one's creativity, but it is just as essential to not let personal feelings get in the way, otherwise compromising the main objective at hand."

Now it was his turn to tilt his head but he nodded regardless of his brewing confusion.

"The best way to avoid losing composure and letting emotions rule, is to lock it up. Throw away the key. Then bury everything somewhere even you can't find."

He heard how some people could steal your heart before you knew what hit you.

He hoped someone stole his. Kept it and didn't give it back. Crushed it into a million unidentifiable pieces and scatter it in the desert for all he could care. Just so he wouldn't have one again.

He smiled ruefully, "That easy, huh?"

They chuckled darkly before continuing their walk before he had sidetracked them.

He turned to face his dead-eyed specter some ten meters away, a second too late to miss that dead stare fade into the inky blackness, and he followed after his mentor silently then on.

.

He blamed most of his monotony and melancholy on his mentor.

His mentor, a guy by the name of Clemente, was just that much of a depressing dude.

The guy had no joy in life. It was like a drop of ink in water. It was spreading to him too.

You see, he used to be a real epic dude, Zane Silent that is, but not as of late.

No, not since he started working for the shady shady shady shadowy Ombra Famiglia.

It wasn't because of the members, they were actually quite welcoming and nice to be around despite the frequent house fires and screaming for help that randomly occurred.

It was Clemente, his joy-killing mentor the boss had assigned to him way back whenever he landing on their doorstep so many years ago.

The guy, a man of twenty-something-not-that-old-yet who always wore dark blue shades to cover _fucking tired_ dim green eyes. Pale blond hair cast a dull messy halo around the jaded man, and it was sickening and damn ironic to Zane every time he thought about it.

Now, until the last coupla' months, he could stand it. Still be his ever annoying, mischievous, lovable self, but it seemed the life was being sucked out of him the more he stayed around the terribly terrible mentor he called his own teacher.

So he was surprised that he felt somewhat sorry for time having passed so quickly when both da boss-man and Clemente declared his apprenticeship over.

Apparently five years together wasn't enough, but he was both relieved and distraught to see the man he's come to call _his_ joy-killing mentor walk out of his life. Sure, same family, same main division as fellow Illusionists, but that wasn't the same as before.

Before, they were tight, they worked nicely and neatly, they worked perfectly in sync with each otha' like partners, clashing personas and all, but now everything was dying a little at a time. Zane hated to see the man go, but he guess he now understood why his mentor was such a buzz-kill.

The mafia was a fucking hard job to do. But who else was going to work it?

If nothing else, Zane knew he'd have to find his light soon though.

The dark, even if he lived there his whole life till this point, was moving, and he certainly didn't wanna stick around to find out why.

He needed hope, a reason, a purpose, no matter how depressing it sounded. Or cliche.

Deep down, he liked his mentor, honest, but he didn't want to end up like him. Cool looking dude. From afar. But only from afar. Other than that? Major joy-killa.

He hoped, being a new captain and all, that his first lil' band of misfits would be better off chasing butterflies than getting dragging into the ink floating around the underground world.

Yeesh. Barely seventeen and he was already sounding like an old man.

* * *

Name:

Alias:

Meaning of name/s: (optional)

Age:

Birthday: (optional)

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Appearances:

Weapon/s:

Fighting style/s:

Flame/s: (only comes into play later)

Theme song/s: (optional)

Background:

Other: (optional)

.

Name: Zane Silent

Alias: Eric Farrell, Callisto Loredan, Zeke Kagura, Mister Epic (self-proclaimed).

Meaning of name/s: Zane - Hebrew, "God is Gracious," but is also a town in the province of Vicenza, Veneto, Italy.

Age: 17

Birthday: N/A

Personality: A mischievous but serious leader. Slightly egotistis. Alright, very egotistic. Laidback, charming, calm, but sarcastic. Bitter, sardonic at times, and generally tries to remain neutral about things. Lazy.

Likes: Himself. Money. Sleep. He enjoys music and pulling pranks on those nearby, eating food he didn't pay for himself, spending time with interesting people, and watching chaos unfold. Singing. Taking pictures.

Dislikes: Being held responsible. Having to be responsible. Not being his epic self. Doing actually work and having to break up fights. Working in general.

Appearances: Approx. 5'9" and slightly tan, has bright green eyes and messy black hair he lets fall in front of his eyes. Normally wears simple shirts and jeans with combat boots, keeps to dark colors but does wear the occasional neon just because. Disguises not included of course, because then he'd wear almost anything.

Weapon/s: He improvises with anything, but mainly sticks to daggers. Can use longswords and sickles. Illusions. Needles, poison. Keeps a Beretta 92 FS handgun in case.

Fighting style/s: Avoidance or rush in, there is no in-between for him. Knows a few martial arts, but mostly sticks to street fighting.

Flames: Mist

Theme song/s: 1000 Transmissions by Ayria

Background: He isn't sure why he ran away as a kid and doesn't remember much about life before that but never bothered to question it. After living on the street so long, he became acquainted with the wrong folks due to misfortunate pick-pocketing. Eventually he found himself sitting at the Ombra doorstep because he had no idea who else would take him. After training he was accepted and was put under his former mentor due to aptitude for illusions.

Other: He doesn't like telling people he's a picky eater. He tries to use formal/normal language but can't help but get lazy and starts to slur things along.

* * *

No pairings as of yet, with anyone, cannon or otherwise. May come into some play later on however.

Bare with this fool, for I am one lazy bastard, and therefore probably won't turn out chapters like crazy when it be needed.

"the shady shady shady shadowy Ombra Famiglia." An exaggerated literal meaning of Ombra, which means "shadow, shade, darkness, ghost, obscurity." Hail Google. Psht.

Clemente means "gentle and merciless." From 20000 names site.

"Flames: (only comes into play later)" Keep to the more known flames such as Storm, Rain, Sun, Lightning, Mist, Cloud, but only a few/couple Sky flames will be accepted. Only a few/one or two dual flames/more than single flames will be accepted. May be changed at anytime if so desired.

Basically pretend you don't have it just yet. Sorry for the inconvenience.

"N/A" Is my laziness. Can be used and added later, no need to rush. I clearly ain't.

"same main division as fellow Illusionists" and "being a new captain and all" - Main divisions are categorized by flames, then further by specialist groups (information, assassination, recruiting, messengers, etc) or individual groups or individuals themselves. Clarification: Zane is part of the Main Mist Division (_Il Principale Reparto Nebbia D'ombra_)(lame translation on my part) but is the new captain of a mixed individual group now due to certain circumstances as well. Clemente is still part of the Main Mist but is now going solo. Most if not all OCs will be joining Zane however.

**Does not have to be a particularly dark story**, I simply wrote this in the mood and half-asleep.

Either PM or review your OC works fine with me, but as a cursory warning, bit of a perfectionist here so don't feel let down if yours is turned down. Also, feel free to thrown in a **better title idea** while your at it. _Nox Celestis_ lit. means "Heavnely Night." I think.


	2. Meeting the Knight

**Disclaimer: I _own_ nothing, all _right_s go to their **right**ful **own**ers.**

Written to "King of the World" by _Porcelain and the Tramps_ and (OC theme) "Walk Away" by _Darren Hayes_.

* * *

_"There's a sword laying in the blood stained grass..._

_The crow with blood stained eyes turns away."_

Meeting the Knight

He didn't hear any footsteps or other sound before his door was kicked open. Nor did he have enough time to move for his gun before being tackled by a green-eyed blur. He did have time to lash out with his legs, aiming for the throat, but his assailant had already rolled over and off him, and off the bed with a loud _thud_ as he had been reading prior the impromptu attack.

"Not a chill greeting, dude."

... That was a greeting? Wow. Subtle. Really heartwarming. Such a wonderful Famiglia he joined.

Stopping abruptly in his counterattack, he realized the teen before him was none other than his newly appointed captain, but he wasn't so sure just yet because he was only given a brief description of the young man, who was really a year or two his junior now that he thought about it upon closer inspection.

"Thank you very much, as if, for not bashing my head in or shooting it off my shoulders, I'm sure Miss Alouette would appreciate the gesture."

Of course. Getting detention or possible solitary confinement on his first meeting was not part of his agenda.

He meet cheery persona with cold indifference, but nodded in acknowledgement before poising his own question, "'Miss Alouette'?"

"Ah, I see you haven't met the shrill old bat yet. You'll have to go through a check-up soon enough anyways, so be prepared for madness~ She's the doctor staying with us in case of emergencies and also the recruitment adviser. As in, she can totally kick your ass out if she wanted yo."

Don't piss off apparently less than sane doctor-lady, check.

He raised a brow at his captain, still half sitting, half laying on his floor, taking note of his rather haggard appearance. Hastily thrown on black shirt, backwards mind you, dark jeans, and military-estique combat boots, he dully noted the mess said teen called hair that fell in front of bright green eyes stuck out in random directions as if he just got out of bed. It was an amusing contrast to his own black dress shirt, black jeans, and old runners. His own dark red hair fell into in front of his hair purposely to shield wine red colored eyes and was straight and fixed, something his captain also apparently didn't care for.

All the while, he himself was being idly analyzed with a detached sort of curiosity that made him vaguely annoyed. Not exactly mad, but not very pleased with the way he could practically see his image being filed away without any real glance in their eyes. So, he did the only reasonable thing he could.

He kicked his captain in the head, detention or possible removal attempt be damned; _Raven Vérène was not going to be ignored, discarded, or tossed aside in any way whatsoever by someone he just met._

The sooner that was made clear, the sooner he hoped the other teen would leave.

But to his surprise, they just laughed from their new position on the fall, partially leaning on the wall adjacent to his bed.

Not what he was expecting, but he shrugged it off. So, either his captain wasn't entirely stable, had no real common sense, or a strange yet believable mix of both. He was guessing at a severe lacking of both sanity and sense though when he realized they were still laughing and now rolling around on his black carpet.

* * *

This kid was a riot! Not often did new recruit have enough balls to _kick a high ranking officer in the head_. On the first meeting no less! A good five minutes or so into conversation and already he was assaulted. True, probably karma for freaking the guy out in the supposed safety of his room and tackling him as first contact, but in his defense, Alouette didn't tell him any of the recruits arrived until he was already half-passed out from a long day in the field.

In his haste to see them, a Raven Vérène going by the profile (provided by Alouette after she dragged him out of bed, quite literally he might add) he skim read on the way, he ran into three corners, broke two vases, knocked over a butler and a maid in the middle of gossip, and managed to lose his decoy wallet in his mad dash to their room.

Never mind the fact they were, according to their rather blank profile, two years older, he already liked the kid. Lot of, how did he say it, interesting reactions?

Not to mention that split second of shock and disbelief when he busted into hysterics. The slight throbbing in his cranium, completely worth it in his (un)professional opinion.

* * *

"The names Zane, Zane Silent."

After his captain, now known as Zane, had calmed down from his fit of insanity, he brushed imaginary dirt off his clothes and stood up to introduce himself. Raven admitted, he was still a bit wary of his perhaps not-hundred-percent-sane captain but reached out to shake his hand regardless. It did no good to appear uncertain in front of unpredictability.

He paused for a moment to mull his answer over before casting his remaining caution to the wind, "Almost pleasure to meet you, _Zane_. Raven Vérène at your service. Now get out of my room."

"What a wonderful attitude!"

It was at that moment, he decided with a sudden sense of finality.

His captain definitely was insane.

* * *

I enjoyed trying to write that. **OC** (_Raven Vérène_) belongs to** Icy Storm** and I can only hope I didn't butcher him!

Any and all suggestions are taken into full consideration, but bear with me, I have no real plot line for this. None. Nada. Zilch. It's mostly if not all influenced by the OCs themselves and other random thoughts I have while writing.

"Meeting the..." well be the title of each OC's introduction unless otherwise requested and the "..." shall be something taken from either their profile or what their creator wants to be put there.

The poem at the beginning belongs to me this time.

So, until next time!


End file.
